A gust of wind went soughing through the trees, which bowed their crests before it in long, rippling lines. On the dark horizon, lightning flashed in and out of the dense bank of clouds, and the windows rattled as the peals of thunder sounded nearer and more frequent.
Then, from some way off, a short, sharp cry was heard through the rising storm. Men's steps came crashing through the bushes, and suddenly two shots rang out. Inside the Copper House, all sprang to their feet, and looked apprehensively at one another, with the conviction that the critical moment had arrived.
Wallion ran noiselessly downstairs, with Leo after him, and saw Lona Ivanovna crossing the hall, a revolver in her hand. Sonia had rushed to the glass door, and was gazing out into the twilight: Sergius Tassler stood in the entrance to the dining-room, with one hand in his pocket.
"Someone is climbing over the balustrade of the terrace," said the girl suddenly, "and he has a revolver!"
"Who is it?" inquired Lona Ivanovna.
"I can't see yet--it's a man. Now he's turning round again."
Another revolver-shot cracked, and was answered by the report of a gun further off. The revolver was fired once more, four shots in quick succession; hasty steps sounded on the gravel, and the girl started back from the door, as a shadow appeared just outside it, groping for the handle.
Wallion threw the door open, and a man ran right into his arms. It was Rosenthal, hatless, and with his coat torn.
"They discovered me," he panted, "shut the door, they are coming!"
Wallion did so, and returned to him, saying:
"What have you done?"
The Austrian began to reload his Browning.
"I went down to the lodge to telephone," said he.
"Well?"
"I got through to the Daily Courier, but Robert Lang was not there."
"Then, of course, you haven't spoken to him."
"No, I had no luck," said the Austrian stolidly; "and the worst of it was, that while I was standing at the telephone, the baron and Marcus Tassler returned from the station in a motor-car, and caught me. Fayerling spotted me at once, and raised the alarm. I tried to hold my ground, but was obliged to give in at last. Unfortunately, this puts an end to anything I could do as Rosenthal the gardener, so from now on, I become instead Max Raebel, the Austrian government detective, at your service, ladies and gentlemen."
He bowed to the assembled company.
A step of an entirely different kind was now heard on the gravel: light, firm, almost arrogant in its character.
It was Baron Fayerling, who tried the handle and shook the glass door. He was alone, and at a sign from the journalist, Lona Ivanovna went forward and opened the door.
"What do you want?" she demanded, looking him fearlessly in the face.
"I am not looking for you," replied the baron hastily: "I want that spy...."
"Would you not rather talk to me?" suggested Wallion, pushing Max Raebel on one side, and stepping forward.
The two men looked at one another. The baron raised his eyebrows, but his impassive face betrayed no other sign of surprise, though Wallion observed with considerable satisfaction, that he hesitated a little over his reply.
"So you are tired of playing hide and seek?" he said at length. "I'm afraid you must have found it very uncomfortable."
"Not in the least, baron, but I was beginning to fear that you had forgotten me."
The baron looked round, as though he meditated raising an alarm, and Wallion added quickly:
"Won't you come in? Perhaps you have something to say to me?"
"No, not yet. I suspected that you were here, when you were found to have been out of Stockholm for a whole day. Our business will keep. I presume that you have realized your mistake by this time?"
"In coming here, you mean? On the contrary, I made a great mistake in not coming sooner; it would have spared both you and myself a lot of trouble."
The baron looked narrowly at him.
"You should not have ventured here without a strong force!" he remarked.
"No, thanks, I prefer fair play."
"You don't lack self-confidence; I could tell that yesterday, from your letter, which I have kept."
"Ah, as a keepsake, no doubt!"
"No, to hand it over to my superior officer!" and the baron turned away, and left the room.
"What have you gained by that?" whispered Leo; "the fellow was white with rage."
"Did you notice that he absolutely ignored Max Raebel?" answered the journalist; "I think we shall still be left in peace for a bit."
"Not for long, though," Lona Ivanovna put in, pointing towards one of the windows that faced seawards, from which they saw the reflection of the blue light over the tops of the trees.
"It's coming at last, is it?" murmured Wallion, and he went upstairs three steps at a time, followed by Leo who guessed that he was returning to his post of observation. When they reached the window overlooking the shore, they saw that almost total darkness had set in. Long shadows, and floods of bluish-white light drifted alternately across the mirror-like surface of the bay, and only the dim outline of the lighter could be distinguished.
"Now you are going to see something which will surprise you," said a voice behind Leo: it was that of the Austrian, who had followed them upstairs.
"Yes," Wallion chimed in, almost gaily, "if I am not mistaken, we may look for Gabriel Ortiz at any minute now!"
The journalist was worked up to a high pitch of excitement; he was evidently in his element at the near prospect of a good tussle: a faint flush mounted to his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled: he was smoking continuously.
Leo's eyes were fixed on the channel between the islands and the shore, and there he saw something which made him suddenly grip the window-ledge. In the center of the flood of light, something seemed to be moving on the surface of the water: a spar had shot right up out of the sea, and was approaching the lighter at an astounding rate. It seemed to increase in height as it came nearer, and presently, out of the foaming water there appeared a turret, and a convex shining mass, like the back of a whale.
"What is that?" he exclaimed; "why--but that's impossible!" The beam of light followed the extraordinary object, which was now slackening speed very noticeably: a hatchway was seen to open, and men's figures began to emerge from the turret, which was still streaming wet from its immersion.
"It's too absurd!" cried Leo, staring harder than ever; "a submarine! I don't understand...."
"Why, what an unbelieving fellow you are!" growled the Austrian. "Can't you see for yourself...."
"Yes, but ... when you come to think of it ... a submarine!"
"Well, it's evident that nothing less will do for Gabriel Ortiz. Of course, that's his flagship. Surely you didn't expect him to come in a rowing-boat!"
Wallion smiled.
"Did you know it?" demanded Leo quickly.
"Yes," replied the journalist. "I guessed as much, when I saw how the side of the lighter was damaged. The Russian submarine fleet has practically gone the way of all flesh: half of it blown up, and the remainder surrendered. Why shouldn't one or two of them have been simply stolen? You can't deny that Ortiz is a man who knows how to make the most of his opportunities. It is really a brilliant idea! He always ran a certain amount of risk with the motor-launch 'Nelly,' but with this one, he is never obliged to 'lie-to' and answer inconvenient questions from the coastguards. There they go, bang against the lighter!"
The three spectators now heard a subdued creaking, and the flare on board the lighter was extinguished. A sharp order was given, and in a few minutes, a less powerful light appeared, and began to move backwards and forwards. The respective silhouettes of the lighter and the submarine were merged into one; a little yawl approached the ruined pier, and several lanterns began to twinkle like glowworms. They were arranged in a row on the beach, and by their light a party of six or eight men could be seen, starting up the path that led to the Copper House. At the same time, voices, amongst which they recognized the baron's, were heard in excited conversation beneath the window: the arrival of the submarine had been discovered.
At the head of the little band, walked a solitary undersized figure, in a flapping waterproof: it was obvious who this must be.
"That's the man!" said the Austrian, in a low voice: "that's Ortiz!"
As if the powers of the air had been waiting for this announcement, the storm now burst upon them in earnest. An unusually dazzling glare of violet lightning spread a network of phosphorescent light over the whole extent of the blue-black sky, and as it faded out, a peal of thunder crashed over the house like an avalanche, till the walls seemed to shake, and the floors to rock. The rain fell in torrents, pouring down in one continuous cascade; when the echo of the thunder at length died away, the noise of the rain took its place, and the drops pattered against the panes and the roof like machine-gun fire after the heavy artillery has ceased.
But nothing stopped the progress of the little band. The three men who were watching them could see through the veil of rain the solitary figure marching along at their head, the cape of his waterproof fluttering like black wings about his shoulders.
"Well," said Wallion, "our ally is rather late in arriving, but has come at all events. Come along...."
"Our ally?" echoed Raebel.
"Yes, the storm. It deprives them of sight and hearing for the time being. Let's go downstairs."
They went down again, and joined the three Bernins, who were silently awaiting them in the dark dining-room.
"Now for it!" said the journalist, gathering them all round him. "Quick's the word, and sharp the action! Sergius Tassler, whatever happens, you must continue to play the part of Andrei Bernin as long as it can be kept up--and you, Lona Ivanovna, must stand by him. Above all, we must do nothing rashly: our chief aim is to gain time. I propose to remain here and meet the first brunt of Ortiz' attack: I think I shall be able to give him plenty to think about! But you, gentlemen," turning to Leo and Raebel, "you must make a last attempt to run the blockade: one or other of you will, in all probability be able to get through. Do anything you like, steal the baron's car, or fight your way to the station, but get word to Robert Lang of the arrival of the submarine, and instruct him to take immediate steps to capture the whole gang."
"Yes, yes," answered Leo eagerly, "we ought to have thought of that long ago!"
"Thought! I have thought of little else!" said Wallion impatiently. "But can't you see, that the rain and the darkness have given us our chance?"
"That's clear," interposed the Austrian, "so don't let's waste time in talking."
He went to a window, and opened it without a sound; the darkness outside rose up like a wall in front of him. As Leo was following him, he felt a hand on his arm: it was Sonia.
"Let me come too!" she whispered.
Wallion, who overheard her, was on the point of refusing, but Lona Ivanovna said:
"Let the child go, she can look after herself better than any boy!"
The journalist, moved by the pleading in the girl's eyes, gave in to the old lady, and offered no opposition, the more so, as every minute's delay was dangerous. Sonia had changed into her black riding costume, probably in the expectation of some such contingency, and was already at the window; to Leo's whispered attempt to dissuade her, she only replied with a shake of the head.
"Be off, then, at once, all three of you," said Wallion briskly; "don't stop, whatever happens; if one of you gets through, lose no time in getting in touch with the nearest authorities; knock people up, telephone to Stockholm, do everything you can...."
He continued to whisper his instructions to them, whilst he was helping them to get through the window. They were eager to start off, and carry out their orders, and the storm seemed to swallow them up in a moment. It was like being thrown into the sea. The rain lashed their faces, and the wind tore at their clothes, but the three adventurers summoned up all their courage, bent their heads, and began to cross the terrace.
Darkness had obliterated the big house behind them, they could not hear their own footsteps, and groped their way onwards, afraid of losing one another. Sheets of rain enveloped them: it was impossible to see or hear the sentries, who must certainly be near them; but this they had to risk.
"This way," said Leo, just above his breath.
They were brought up short by the stone balustrade, over which they scrambled, jumping down on to the grass. At that instant, the sky was lit up by a flash, broad and blue as a stream of molten silver. For one second, they, the trees and the bushes, stood out distinctly, then the darkness wrapped them round again, and they were deafened by the succeeding peal of thunder. Leo seized Sonia's hand, and dragged her along with him: an alarming sight had met their eyes; crouching under the shelter of the trees were a number of sentries, their hoods pulled up over their heads, and their guns under their waterproof capes. The fugitives had been seen. A shrill whistle was audible through the dying reverberations of the thunder, and lanterns appeared at various points. The darkness protected them for a moment, but they dreaded the next flash. The lights seemed to move more rapidly, and voices called out questions and answers. Leo and the girl ran on wildly through the wet grass; suddenly a rough voice shouted something quite close to them, and a lantern was flashed into their faces. Before the young man knew what was happening, he found himself engaged in a hand-to-hand combat; his left hand grasped a rifle-barrel, his right, a wet and twisted collar. A shot rang out, and a red flame seemed to flash just below his elbow: using his knee as a lever, he bent the gun across it, wrenched it free, and flung it away. His panting assailant, whose breath reeked of bad tobacco, seized him by the shoulders and tried to force him down, but Leo got the fellow round the waist, lifted him off the ground, and they rolled over together. His clenched fist came in contact with a chin, and he received several kicks from feet tramping backwards and forwards. He sprang up, caught hold of someone, who swore violently, and hurled him far in amongst the bushes, just as another flash lighted up the landscape. The vivid glare showed him the Austrian struggling with three men at once.
"They've got me!" Raebel cried; "see to yourself!"
Leo turned to find yet another adversary, gave him a stinging blow on the ear, and dodged past him into the shelter of the trees. Somebody made a grab at his foot, but he kicked it loose, and after a minute's frantic rush through soaking wet branches and leaves, which slapped him in the face, he found himself on level ground, drew a deep breath, and realized that he was in the avenue. Had he actually broken through the cordon of sentries? It seemed almost impossible, but without stopping to puzzle it out, he sped on down the avenue. He fancied he could hear light footsteps running a little ahead of him; it was Sonia, and he called out softly to her. But what was this? She was running towards him: was she turning back? They stopped opposite one another.
"Why have you turned back?" he panted; "are they in front of us?"
"No, no," she whispered eagerly; "it is you ... if you go in this direction ... it's you that are making a mistake ... look, look!"
Sure enough, Leo noticed to his dismay that in the darkness he had taken a wrong turn. Through the trees in front of them, he now saw the terrace steps, full of lights and men. The little party from the boat were just marching up the path from the bay, and the short figure in the waterproof was ascending the steps, at a brisk, steady pace. Someone held a lantern in front to guide him, and by its light they saw his pale, determined face, looking upwards and onwards, as though he intended to allow nothing to turn him from his purpose.
Then Leo and Sonia turned and fled, without looking behind them. Gabriel Ortiz' face had terrified them by its indomitable strength, and they realized that all was lost, unless they succeeded in obtaining help. Stumbling along through the pools of water, they hurried on faster and faster.
